Secrets of the Snow

No bird sings this morning. The town of Elmhurst lies silent, waiting for the snow to melt. Everyone anticipates the return of spring, except for Etta Cronin. Etta, who lives alone, has endured the harsh winter without complaint.

At nine, her neighbor, Fred, opens his front door and lets the dog out to do his business. The dog lopes over to Etta’s yard sniffing. He whines and stands, hackles raised before a large mound of snow at the edge of the yard. Mrs. Cronin comes out on her porch and yells at him to go away. He begins to paw at the base of the mound. Mrs. Cronin, in a higher pitch, pleads with him to go home.

Mrs. Cronin has feared this moment. Knew it would come. Ever since the snow fell last November, that brutal night when the snow turned red. For ten days she thankfully watched the snow fall. The news called it the worst of the century. A record snowfall that wouldn’t melt till spring.

Now even though it is spring, Mrs. Cronin feels a chill down deep in her bones. She wraps her shawl tightly around her shoulders and awaits the thaw.

I am so curious I feel like adding something because you have created such a good story :
“Mrs Cronin wondered if the blood would still be there. Her blood. Blood from a hacked shoulder that had taken all winter to heal. With the return of spring would the vagrant robber also return?”